


Searching Through Miles of Rain

by JensenAckles13



Series: One Part Insanity, Two Parts Chaos [8]
Category: Avengers, Frostiron - Fandom, Marvel, Norse Mythology, Thor - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Comfort, Ficlet, I'm Sorry, It's all angst, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki Needs a Million Hugs, M/M, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:22:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensenAckles13/pseuds/JensenAckles13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, what a terrible thing it was, Loki had said when he’d arrived, loving something that death could touch.<br/>It was some old quote Tony didn’t know who said, but he knew he’d heard before.<br/>The god had returned for that drink, and Tony willingly gave; not a glass, an entire bottle because it seemed that’s what Loki needed…what both of them needed (would, perhaps, always need).<br/>Loki was quiet as he drank, watching the rain fall desperately outside, as if it were trying it’s damndest to drown the world.<br/>Maybe it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Searching Through Miles of Rain

_“It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don’t agree. The wounds remain. Time- the mind, protecting its sanity- covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.”_  
 _-Rose Kennedy_

Oh, what a terrible thing it was, Loki had said when he’d arrived, loving something that death could touch.  
It was some old quote Tony didn’t know who said, but he knew he’d heard before.  
The god had returned for that drink, and Tony willingly gave; not a glass, an entire bottle because it seemed that’s what Loki needed…what both of them needed _(would, perhaps, always need)_.  
Loki was quiet as he drank, watching the rain fall desperately outside, as if it were trying it’s damndest to drown the world.  
Maybe it was.

In turn, Tony watched the god; watched him drink whiskey like it was water; watched the pull of his throat as he swallowed and the slow but steady tightening of his fingers around the delicate neck of the bottle; saw the dark smudges beneath his usually bright eyes, that were now dull and broken; saw the thinness to his usually lean body and the sickly pale of his skin that was usually granite; saw the defeated curve to his shoulders and the tired set to his mouth, the one that made it damn near impossible to smile anymore.  
He saw all this and he simply watched, doing nothing, saying nothing; simply watching because what else could he do?  
Give falsified promises that everything would be alright when they both knew damn well it wouldn’t be? Whisper reassurances in the god’s ear when reassurance meant nothing at all?  
What could he give the fallen prince that he didn’t already have?  
What could he give the broken god that he finally knew he needed?  
What could he say to console a being who once had everything but had fallen so far, he was sitting in his enemy’s home drinking until he could forget why he was drinking at all?

It seemed Loki knew, for once, what he needed.

After he’d finished his third bottle, he’d knelt before Tony and he’d sobbed.  
His arms had wound around Tony’s waist and he’d cried into the mad inventor’s chest, murmuring nonsense about his mother and a waterfall and stars.  
The god clung like Tony was the only thing keeping him up and wasn’t that funny because Tony was already drowning.

Thunder shook the ground and lightning lit the sky and rain fell like tears and Tony realized that everyone had fallen tonight.

So Tony pretended; pretended he could hold the god up _(even if it was with arms shaking from holding everyone else up for far too long)_ ; pretended he was fine because he was Tony Stark and Tony Stark was always fine; pretended he didn’t want to take the god’s hand and tell him everything would be alright even though they both knew nothing would be; pretended he didn’t want to kill anyone who ever thought it was okay to hurt the god; pretended he didn’t want to scream to the sky and fix everything.

No, instead of doing any of that, he knelt in front of Loki and took his face in both his hands, kissing him softly because he was afraid the god would break if he didn’t.

Loki responded messily, arms winding around Tony’s neck and holding him closer, keeping him close because all they had now was each other and wasn’t that something when not seven months ago they’d been trying to kill each other.

That night, they’d found their way to Tony’s bed and shed their clothes in careless piles on the ground, holding each other close, arms wound around each other, fingers twined, legs tangled, lips centimeters apart, touching as much as they possibly could, sharing body heat and oxygen; they simply held each other.

Outside, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed and the rain fell on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first off, Loki's 3 bottles of alcohol are kind of ironic; if you know what the number 3 stands for religion wise (the father, the ghost and the holy spirit), and you know drinking like this is a no-no...(fyi, I'm atheist guys, so feel free to comment whatever it is you want if you need to; no offense will be taken).
> 
> Second, seven is the number of completeness. So, seven for the seven months between the invasion and Loki finally showing up with Tony. Do with that what you will.
> 
> Third, kudos to you if you got the meaning to that part about Loki's mother (okay, step mother but whatever; I consider her his real mother and no one can convince me otherwise) and the waterfall and the stars (if you've seen Thor 2, it's likely you understood it.
> 
> Fourth...HA! HA HA. More angst. It's my favorite.   
> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


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